Insomnia
by the fat man walks alone
Summary: Something is happening to Hermione at night, and someone unwanted has taken notice. (Hr/D)
1. Stirring

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Insomnia

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione, Draco or those little Harry lolly pops I've seen around. And quite frankly, those disturb me.

AN: Review if you love it, review if you hate it. If it's all mediocre to you I'll understand if you don't review. But I will cry. 

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The Ravenclaw door slipped shut behind him, louder than he'd like for this time of night. Draco took long steps, enjoying the way the muscles pulled as he stretched out his legs. He fixed the buttons on his shirt in a long-practiced routine. The scent of sex hung off him, thick and wanton. The moonlight slipped into the corridor and ran its fingers through his hair, glossing it like white gold.

All he wanted now was to get back to Slytherin and wash her flavour off his body, before curling up into black silk and maybe get some sleep. He laughed at that thought and shook his head, shaking his hair out and feeling the sweat at the nape of his neck chill with the night air.

He stiffened when he saw a figure approaching him. How had he missed that, he wondered, and thought that maybe his insomnia was blurring his concentration more than he wanted to admit. But the figure walked closer, almost floating and he realized it was because they were silent. Their robes swirled out behind them with the inertia of their movement, and still they were absolutely silent. Not so much as the dry brush of the robe on the floor.

Magic, he curled his lip. At least it wasn't Finch, that slimy git would never be that cunning. Draco felt a nervous pressure lifted from his chest from that realization that he didn't care to acknowledge. He hadn't been caught in three years; it was a matter of personal pride, not fear.

"Granger," he murmured, recognizing slowly the soft curves of the face, the perfect upturn of the nose and the chocolate curls hugging her face underneath the hood. Her eyes – perfect circles of brown – stared straight ahead, not even flickering to him as she passed.

"Mudblood," he announced, louder. He planted his feet apart and assumed his usual it's-not-arrogance-when-you're-really-this-good stance, waiting for a hurt look or a snappy ill-thought insult. He wasn't choosy.

"Malfoy," she stated. She didn't so much as glance at him and her pace didn't falter. Draco felt his mouth fall open as he stared at the robes flowing around her, disappearing back into the blackness of the corridor. He wondered then, what the hell just happened?

* * * * *

Ginny rolled out of bed with dawn just lighting the horizon, her hand slipping over her alarm to stop it going off. She shrugged on a robe and made her way quietly to the Head Girl's chambers. 

"Hermione," she sighed, as she swung the bathroom door open, being greeted by a familiar sight. Three weeks ago she had thought this year would be a good one, maybe the first wholly good year. She'd thought that Harry and Ron would get into stupid trouble but not enough to stop them graduating, and that Hermione would be a great Head Girl, and maybe that tasty Ravenclaw Albert would finally find feisty redheads were the way to go. But no, fate had to screw her royally.

She sighed again as she linked her arms under Hermione's and pulled her up out of the bath. Hermione shivered and stirred, blinking up at Ginny with a smile.

"G'morning," she drawled.

"You're a ray of sunshine," Ginny smirked and rolled Hermione into a fluffy towel, before helping her back to her bedroom.

She was learning to get used to things. Not to like them, but to accept them. Ginny accepted that she'd be getting up before what any other Gryffindor thought was a sane time for Saturday. She accepted that she'd find Hermione asleep in an ice-cold bath. She even accepted the dark marks coating Hermione's skin, and the way she flinched when Ginny moved her. But the way the light in Hermione's eyes was fading; that was something she couldn't accept.

* * * * *

Hermione stirred as the moon came fully overhead. She stretched out her muscles lightly, before throwing back her bedsheets. She was grateful for the expanse of the Head Girl's room and the stretch of mirrors along one wall. Hermione stood in front of it and lifted her nightgown over her head, naked underneath.

The bruises seemed almost black in the dull light. They stretched across her stomach, down her legs, up her thighs. Even her wrists were encased with dark bands. Hermione cracked a wicked smile, thinking how her nightly activities could be mistaken for a sadomasochistic edge.

She watched the mirror as she repeated a simple set of movements, moving her entire body, until they were fluid. Then, she undid the lock-charm on her end closet and pulled out what'd she come to think of as her night-uniform. Throwing the cloak on afterwards she pulled the hood up and flowed silently through the corridors, down a maze of stairs, and out into the yard.

She noted everything as she passed. Blackness under every door she'd passed in Hogwarts. The place was asleep. Outside, the moon was waning, and clouds were coming over. The ground had the slightest frost, which she felt crumple under her leather boots. Hagrid's hut was dark some distance away. She needed practice at this part, she knew. The observing, the cataloguing. 

'Know your surroundings better than you know your lover,' he always joked. Then he'd give her a certain look, to remind her of the rules of their game.

"Hermione."

She shuddered, thinking that she'd been oblivious to another student. Ahead of her, another cloaked figure emerged from the tree-line. 

"Professor," she let herself smirk, "You're not supposed to wait here."

"You're not supposed to be late," he growled.

"I'm barely conscious as it is." She shook the sleep off her head, growing more alert by just being around him. Her body knew what to expect next, and it was getting ready. He frowned and turned, striding back into the forests. Hermione looked around once more, out of a sense of practice more than to actually look. But she saw a blur of white in one tower window, dropping back as quickly as she'd turned around. Hermione frowned and squinted at the window. The casing was green and silver.

She snarled low under her breath and turned back around, following her master deeper into the forest.

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	2. Claws

Insomnia (Ch 2)  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own it. is this necessary every part?  
  
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"Potter," Draco hissed as Harry slammed past him. Goyle grunted, but Draco knew it was in response to his anger rather than any actual gruffness. What he really needed was some minions with a little more style, some independence. Draco paused to look up and down his two goons with a caustic eye. He needed some that could muster some decent fear in the chosen victim.  
  
"So hard to find good help these days," Draco rolled his eyes, imitating his mother the last time she'd threatened to feed a house-elf to a house- python.  
  
"Sit down," Snape ordered. And Snape, Draco tutted, had really laid off the PMS in the past year. It was a shame, really, that he'd lost the chance to hone its edge on Potter's scrawny backside.  
  
Draco slid into a bare bench at the front and spread his books across the surface.  
  
"Professor Snape!" There was a first-year trembling at the door. Snape stalked over and mustered a decent amount of concentrated force of hell into the young child. Draco frowned at the scrawny thing, they got smaller every year. He couldn't remember ever being that pathetic. There was an exchange he didn't bother to eavesdrop on and then Snape was excusing himself for a minute. Well, not so much excusing himself as barking at the class to get themselves into order and start on their assignment.  
  
No sooner was he gone than every bench burst out into conversation. The main focus was of course the fancy dress ball McGonagall had announced a week ago. Draco flipped open his textbook and stared down the list of ingredients for a Frenetaz potion.  
  
"Draco," Pansy smiled as she slid onto the spare seat, "There's a rumour going around all the girls in Slytherin that you haven't asked anyone yet. And some of them were saying you weren't even going to go!"  
  
Draco raised his eyes to her, smiling coldly, "Astonishing." He knew what was coming. Draco could either play dumb and let her spell it out for him, stalling all the way in the hopes Snape would return, or he could just blow her off now and keep the pain brief. Yes, like the guillotine, he mused to himself. He stared back at the page, waiting for her next move. The soil from a young mandrake's mouth. Curses, that could be bloody difficult to get out. He remembered last time he'd fished around in one of those thing's mouths.  
  
"Of course, I fixed them. With a little help from a friend of course," Pansy grinned and licked her lips, "I fixed them all good!"  
  
"Yes, I imagine there's a good number of Slytherins who shouldn't be allowed to breed."  
  
The interruption belonged to Granger, who had only just walked through the door. She looked around the room tersely, finding no benches free from books, before fixing her eyes back on Pansy.  
  
"Are you sitting here?"  
  
"Why, I," Pansy stuttered, "Yes I am at the moment. And I'm having a conversation if you wouldn't mind pissing off."  
  
"No thankyou," Hermione smiled drily, "I'm housetrained."  
  
Draco suppressed a snort of laughter. This was too entertaining, watching Pansy matching wits with. well anyone. Patriotically of course, the little Draco inside was swinging a green flag and chanting 'Pan-sy, Pan-sy!'. Pansy's nostrils flared, but she turned back to Draco resolutely.  
  
"So, it's all set," she grinned, the smile almost cracking her face in two.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Ladies and gentlemen, door number two. Play dumb.  
  
"You're going with me, Drakesy," she grinned.  
  
A devilish grin slid across Hermione's face and it didn't escape Pansy's hawkish notice.  
  
"What are you so smug about?!" Pansy reeled. Yes, stall away, Draco thought to himself, shocked to find himself pleased for Granger's interference.  
  
"Nothing," Hermione looked the picture of innocence, her face angelic. "Just. 'Drakesy'," her grin slid back into place, "You reduce him from the level of a dragon to a goose, and expect him to leap all over you. Being likened to a glorified duck generally doesn't inspire rampant lust in men."  
  
Hermione then looked at Draco, catching him staring back and she snorted, "Of course, I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time our feathered friends have been involved in one of your sexual encounters."  
  
Pansy turned almost violet. Draco was amazed she was able to follow Hermione's words enough to be insulted. The expression on Hermione's face was probably enough to tip her off though. Inwardly, the little Draco cheerleader was eyeing a red and gold flag and salivating.  
  
"You bitch," Pansy yelped, she started to stand and Hermione took a step back. Draco was fixed on her face though and he knew it wasn't a step back out of submission. She was just letting Pansy dig herself in deeper.  
  
"Pansy," he found himself saying. He'd said it loud enough that the rest of the class seemed to have forgotten their discussions and were staring over at the trio. Bloody brilliant, he rolled his eyes.  
  
"No, please Malfoy," Hermione fixed a look on him that sent a thrill of something down his spine. Fear, he belatedly realized. "I'm dieing to hear her other well-constructed, well-reasoned monosyllabic insults."  
  
Well, now she was just being a showoff. Pansy leapt up onto her feet and poked around in her robes, searching for her wand.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry suddenly appeared, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.  
  
"Oh. Sod. Off. Potter," Draco snapped. This was about to get very interesting if that fluff-haired git wouldn't interupt.  
  
"What is happening here?"  
  
The room's attention flooded back to Professor Snape, standing at the front of the room and looking every bit his reputation.  
  
"Return to your seats at once!"  
  
The students fell over themselves scrambling back in to their seats, including Pansy. Hermione slid into the seat next to Draco calmly and began unfolding her own books onto the table.  
  
"Hermione was late, sir," someone - a Slytherin - piped up.  
  
He looked down at the front desk, stared down Hermione who seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. The hair on the back of Draco's neck pricked up in anticipation. He had to admit, something in him was spoiling for a fight. Any way he could get it, start it, or just watch it.  
  
"After class, Granger," he said. Draco's face dropped into a frown, as he wondered where the instant Gryffindor point loss had gone.  
  
"Now, you've all had at least enough time to organize your ingredients, get to work," he snapped and huddled back up into his chair, pulling his robes around him like a blanket.  
  
"Page?" Hermione looked down at his open book and flipped hers to it. She headed to the shelves and began selecting bottles and boxes. Draco sighed to himself and looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a long time. It wasn't that he hated her. It wasn't that his stomach would churn when she passed by. Not even the fact that she was Harry Potter's second best friend had made him never really look before. But it was all that and more, he shook his head in confusion.  
  
Hermione Granger had always just stayed a little under his notice, even more as the years passed until he'd gotten to the point where he barely registered her presence. It was as though when he first knew her, somehow his mind had just fixed on those things. That Granger would always be gangly, and short, with frizzy hair and buck teeth. That she'd always be a knowitall, hiding behind Potter to save her from his scorn. His mind hadn't allowed that she would grow up, like him. That she'd be standing in front of the supplies cabinet, stretching up to grab a bottle, exposing a band of perfect skin between the waist of her shirt and her white school shirt.  
  
He watched as she seemed to flinch as she got the bottle from the top shelf and stalked back to their table. She moved with a grace he'd never noticed. And he wondered again if she really had used magic that night in the corridor. She sat down next to him and ran her eyes over the book, while he followed his inspection down her face - the edgier lines of a woman's, over the wide curls of her dark hair. Her robe hung over the back of the bench and her shirt clung to her arms, outlining toned muscles.  
  
Draco was surprised at that. Wizarding women tended to be of two varieties. Plump, voluptous ones, and the scrawny stick-insects that habitually lived in libraries. There were a few quidditch-addicts with decent muscles, but not many. After all - what do you need a body for when you have a wand?  
  
Hermione was meant to graciously fit into the latter column, and join her stick-insect fellows, but not even the crisp shirt and overlying pinnafore could hide that somehow she'd acquired an atheletic frame.  
  
"Thank you for that," Draco said finally, while he was lightly toasting a snake-skin she'd given him.  
  
"For the snake-skin," said Hermione, her concentration still on the bubbling pot, "Or for irritating Pansy?"  
  
"Both."  
  
She nodded. "Contain yourself if you can. I'm not a philanthropist, Malfoy," she smiled darkly at him, "I just wanted the seat."  
  
"So you admit you wanted to be near me?" he joked, teasing with just a little edge of flirtation. It came so easily to him.  
  
"If that were the case," Hermione paused, "It would seem our situations were reversed."  
  
"How so?" His throat felt dry. Her face seemed to flicker with moonlight for a moment, reminding him of her expression as he'd wrenched himself away from the window. She watched him. Her eyes reached deeper than he'd thought possible and she seemed to come to a conclusion.  
  
She was studying him, and had been, the whole time he'd been studying her, Draco realized. The darkness dropped out of her eyes suddenly and they returned to the same old dull brown.   
  
Some time while he'd been fucking his way through Ravenclaw, she'd grown up, filled out and unfortunately wisened up. Pity, he thought, there were so few worth pursuing these days.  
  
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	3. Moonlight

Insomnia (Ch 3)

Disclaimer: Not mine

AN: The original R rating has been scaled back for the moment. This is because I knew what scene would have that when posting but as I have yet to actually *write* it, I decided to leave the parts rated lower until the story became that graphic. 

Onwards…

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The moon hung heavy, sending bluegrey blood through the body of night. Tonight it was especially thick. Draco stood at the window, holding his hand out, letting the moonlight coagulate on his pale, pale fingertips. Hands reached around him from behind, rubbing up and down his chest with artful strokes. Draco leant back into her body, feeling his senses keen with arousal. She nipped at his back, grating her teeth over the skin before lapping at it soothingly. 

His pupils dilated, and the world seemed to shine like hematite. His head lolled onto his chest as the hands massaged his stomach. Movement caught his focus and he stared down to see a caped figure sliding along the grounds. His partner felt the tension in his body then.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

He shook his head and he turned away from the window. Catching her hands he brought them to his lips playfully. He pulled her in closer then, and kissed her lips hungrily. It was almost like passion. It was almost like lust. His body went through the motions, teasing noises out of her, making her whisper her name as he thrust into her. But his mind wasn't there. It was fixed on the caped figure. The one that ran underneath this window every night, ten minutes after midnight. 

"Hermione," he whispered into the hair – blonde, straight hair – as he came, and didn't quite care whether she heard him or not.

* * * * *

"Hermione," Ginny smiled as her friend sank down into the seat next to her. She was late even for the Saturday breakfast crowd. Hermione smiled at her, her face bright but her eyes dull. Ginny slid the portion of unflavoured, untextured porridge mush over to the new arrival, and Hermione reached for the largest bowl of sugar in the vicinity.

"You look awful," Ginny commented. Hermione tilted her eyebrows, showing her complete lack of surprise. 

"I mean it," Ginny frowned, "You can't keep doing this Hermione."

Hermione shook her head, "You don't even know what I'm doing." She scooped the porridge into her mouth. One bite, then another.

"Because you don't bloody tell me anything," hissed Ginny. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, sure that that was the first she'd ever heard her friend swear.

"I need to know 'Mione," Ginny looked around, careful that no-one was listening, "I need to know more."

Hermione's eyes closed slowly and Ginny felt a twinge of guilt. She wanted to know exactly what her friend was doing and what was happening to her, and most especially, what was running though her head these days. But it was the same every time. Hermione simply shut down when she tried to ask. This time she pushed her bowl away silently and stood.

"I'm going to bed," she stated and she walked away silently. The worst thing, Ginny thought, was that she didn't even seem to miss who she used to be.

* * * * *

"How much does he know?"

"Nice to see you too," said Hermione. She ignored the question for the moment and instead concentrated on her cape, slipping it off and folding it carefully. Her teacher barely flinched a muscle, he was used to her like this. Too many long nights, too many bruises in the morning, had left her clinging on to what control she could. Not that that helped their sessions, but he cared more for her than the instructions he was given.

"'Mione," he shook his head and he rested his hands on her shoulders. Hermione shuddered her breath out and let him massage her gently.

"He doesn't know anything," she said after a long pause. The dark trees rising up around their clearing blanketed sound more than any charm could.

"Maybe he knows something's different about me, if he's ever even looked twice before," she shook her head in thought, "But Harry and Ron haven't even picked up on anything. Malfoy's no threat."

Her master nodded then, taking his hands away from rubbing her neck. 

"Ready?"

Hermione nodded once, firmly. Then they began.

* * * * *

He was a panther. He was a creature of the night, stalking his prey. He was silence given body. He was… cursing in his mind like a sailor with Tourette's. Draco looked down in disgust at the newest twig to noisily snap underneath his feet. This whole mind over matter thing was worth shit, he grumbled.

He looked up at Hogwart's then, cringing with the expectation of lights switching on across the building. Just darkness. 

"Shake a leg, Malfoy," he mumbled under his breath. He took another step and screwed up his face at the riot of leaves crunching, twigs snapping and silence being broken. _Mush on..._ and what the hell was mushing anyway? He fixed his lips into a snarl and continued.

Draco could see his window from where he was now, though it was too far away to make out much more than a green and silver casing. Hermione had come this way, the way he was following. He'd watched her pass by an hour ago. Couldn't be bothered fighting the curiosity any more, and, though painful to admit, Draco didn't have anything better to do on this Friday night than stalk the mudblood. Sleep, he thought bitterly, didn't seem to be an option.

The trees almost whispered as he approached, and he realized he'd never been to this edge of the Forest before. His skin seemed to twitch over his body as he walked closer to the treeline. It was as though some ancient magic waited, calling wanderers closer and filling them with a touch that somehow sickened, somehow thrilled.

Pricking his ears up, he was sure he'd heard something. Like someone grunting. Draco pushed though the frosted grass into the forest. He followed the dull thuds of flesh on flesh. As the sounds got louder, Draco noticed a blue glow sleeping between the trees that seemed to grow as well. Slipping behind a wide, rough Silverwhet Draco moved his head slowly around to see the source of the light.

"Uh!" One figure slammed their palm against the chest of the other, sending them backwards. Draco's mouth fell open when the man twisted backwards in the air and landed on his feet, immediately running in to attack the other. The man was tall and well-built, but with a body made for endurance more than strength. His hair was dirty blonde and his skin was tanned, though from the sun or birth, Draco didn't know. 

The unearthly blue light of the clearing flowed out from a hovering orb of fire, that seemed to dance around the clearing with the two fighters. Draco found his gaze caught by it, drawn to it like a moth, until the second fighter passed in front of it and it was the silhouette that now had him entranced.

The second fighter turned as they flipped back on their hands. Black dragon-leather clung like a second skin to this fighter, a woman. Draco followed the flare of her hips, the pinch at her waist, and then the soft curves of breasts as she moved rapidly during the fight. Her hair was pulled back into a harsh knot and her face ripped around towards him as she kicked the man. 

"Hermione," he whispered, as the translucent blue cut shadows over her face.

Immediately, they stopped. The man stretched up to his full height, and Hermione spun on her heels, so they were both facing the tree he was behind. Draco felt his heart crank to a stop. 

"Crap," he yelped. Hermione took a step forward, her eyes narrowing further. Her hands came up from her side and Draco saw the wand in her hand, pointing in his direction. Before he could register his legs melting into his shoes with terror, Draco broke into a sprint in the opposite direction, tearing through the trees with a jolt of adrenaline egging him on.

Back in the clearing, Hermione and Errat stood listening to, rather than watching, him sprint away. Neither needed to see _who_ it was to know.

"No threat?" he rumbled.

Hermione slipped her wand away again. She wiped her palms over her face to clean off the sweat before she met his eyes. 

"I'll take care of it."

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More notes from me:

Reviews, glorious reviews! For all of you wonderful beings who gave it, lots of Potter-pops for you to sate your sugar-lust!

Jack Nolan - the name inaccurately reflects so much about me. (just the first thought through my head when I came to selecting penname really) Not sure I'll be able to continue the 'brilliance' (aww shucks), but hope you still enjoy the coming parts!

Paperdoll – thanks! hope it continues to be good :)

Erisnymph – haha – it's good to see I'm not the only one laughing at me :D Draco was very sombre when I started this but as I keep writing I seem to be channeling a more juvenile Draco with every part. And then just to ruin the ambience, he goes moody and serious for a paragraph. *sighs wearily*

Jack – long review :) extra lollipops for you!

I understand what you mean about characters changing from Lord-of-Darkness magnitude to gushily apparating eachother's underwear in potions class in the next chapter… Hmm, that gives me an idea. *ahem*

No current plans for mushiness, but they will get closer.

And I'm not as worried about keeping Hermione strong as I am about Draco becoming too gratingly juvenile.

Riona – good questions :) 1) I didn't say it was Professor _Snape _. 2)The dark marks are bruises, sorry if I got you confused with *the* dark marks. Hope the above chapter answered those questions anyway, at least partly.

Serpent du feu – don't know why FF.net made you sign in sorry. Riona and jack didn't have to, and I checked my settings again and it was set to accept unsigned reviews. Thanks though for the r&r :) despite the extra work involved.

Fiery Slut – sorry about making it hard to find. The AN should clear it up – these parts are just too tame for R. Later though…. *laughs mischeivously*

Okee, think that's everyone covered for the moment. Thanks again :)


	4. Collisions

Insomnia (Ch 4)

Disclaimer: Ixnay on my ownership-ay.

AN: Okay, I have to post this now before I find myself re-reading it in a fit of editing paranoia. Sometimes chapters feel right, sometimes they don't… my apologies.

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The problem wasn't that he really _needed_ the room next to him. There was sufficient space on his half of the student desk for all of his potions books, his retro-muggle quill case, and even a little elbow room. No, there was nothing technically wrong with his being condensed on to one side of the desk like every other student in the class. But the problem wasn't about need. The problem was about _want_. 

He wanted anyone but Hermione Granger to sit in the cleared space next to him. He wanted not to have followed her to the forest last night. He wanted right now to be in the Slytherin bunker with a saftey charm on the door and sipping a comfort hot chocolate with some of those mini-marshmallows. He wanted a breakfast cereal that combined flavour with nutrition. He wanted an underwear that supported without trapping. Draco blinked, where was he?

Oh yeah, and he wanted Potter to contract flesh-eating bacteria. 

"Malfoy."

And, as he almost fell backwards off his chair, he realized he wanted a hell of a lot more warning before Granger just appeared like that.

"Gra-" he coughed and deepened his voice, "Granger." _Good, good. Don't let her see the whites of your eyes._

"Pay attention class," snapped Snape, "Especially boys. When you're older you will recognize the true miracle of what I am about to teach you."

Draco tried, but he was too busy concentrating on recovering his breathing pattern and the studious brunette next to him, to really care about African hair-growing powder. 

She was ignoring him, he realized after a few minutes of no interaction. Sitting there on the other half of his desk, Hermione ran her forefinger over the page in rapt attention to a potion. A caustic sexuality mingled in her movements, in the shadows down her face, in the way the edge of the shirt parted to show the slightest curve of breast. Her face was dewy and pink, as though she'd been running and he had a flash of that face under him, pink from effort and breathing his name.

Goosebumps crawled up Draco's arm and prickled the flesh along his neck as he pushed the image away. He was waiting for her to make some indication that last night – when he'd followed her to the forest – had been real. Afterwards, in his room, he had reasoned to himself that she was under his power now. He had her secret – or a part of her secret – and that bound her into his debt. The corner of Hermione's mouth lifted for a moment in a covert little smile. 

But daylight had given Draco an almost painful clarity of thought. When he'd sat at this desk waiting for her arrival without the smugness he rationalized he should have, and with only a fear of what was to come, he realized that fully. He had no power here. He had no control. It was just Fate laughing at him, pulling his strings as she twisted them over. Getting ready to really fuck him over.

Hermione pushed her heavy robes off her shoulders onto the seat behind her, despite the fact that the rest of the class was shivering with Snape's airconditioning choices. 

"Stop staring, Malfoy," she muttered, low enough for him to hear but no one else.

"I was just wondering why you were looking quite so hot and bothered," he replied.

"I'm sure I don't need to draw you a diagram." Draco heard the flare of anger in her voice. So, the new improved Hermione could show emotion. Her eyes bored in to him for a moment longer before the mask slid back into place. 

She didn't look at him again for the entire Potions class. When the bell rang she was up on her feet with her books folded under one arm. Draco was surprised to find his hand tugged into her free hand. He was too busy feeling the warmth and the softness, and the strange scrape of calloused fingertips over his palm to question the action. It was only a few seconds and then she was halfway to the door. He felt the crumple of notepaper she'd left in his hand and unfolded it just as quickly.

__

Tonight.

"Patience, students," Snape sneered, "I'm not done with you yet." The rest of the class stopped what they were doing and paid attention. It was less painful than even bothering to argue that once the bell rang they were on their own time. Draco chewed on his lip as he tortured the note with one hand.

"We're short on students to perform in the duelling competition for the BMSA Boardmembers next month. You will be required to attend vigorous practices but the principal would like you all to be aware that extra credit will be given to those who participate," he drawled out the last word and tsked at them all as though he couldn't conceivably see how any could hold up their own in a duelling competition. His gaze lingered on Potter.

The students gathered their books and all started for the door. Draco pushed forward. Seeing Hermione just in front of him, he reached forward to grab her arm. Just as his was grabbed.

"Mr Malfoy, if I may have a moment," Snape pulled him back and Draco cursed under his breath. 

"I recommend that you particularly join this competition."

Draco shrugged off Snape's hand. 

"Thanks, but final year's busy enough without poking my wand up anyone's ass." He made to leave again and Snape held him back.

"It's not so much a request as an order, Mr Malfoy," Snape's voice grated over his name, setting Draco on edge. The professor was haughty and under the illusion that poor hygiene coupled with big, black gowns made him intimidating. And it had been, Draco admitted to himself. But he wasn't a scrawny Slytherin first year that could be pushed around anymore. 

Eye level with Snape, he sneered, "But you didn't say the magic word." 

Snape just raised an eyebrow, "Your father was quite insistent. Your grades have fallen lower than is acceptable."

"With all undue respect sir," Draco bristled, "Fuck my father."

* * * * *

"If it isn't the immovable Draco Malfoy."

"Now's not the time, Blaise," he growled. She sat herself on the step above his, before taking his cigarette from his fingers. He shot her an icy glare while she sucked on it. One perfectly manicured hand settled on his shoulder. The nails skated over his shirt in a suggestive rhythm.

"Pansy's been sobbing her arse off and waiting for you to come around," she drawled, "Couldn't you just give her a pity fuck and let the rest of us get some sleep?"

The nails grated a little deeper. She had a thing for pain, Draco knew. She liked rough and tough, and the amount of times those nails had left ten red crescents on his back had only helped get him over her long ago. There were too many twisted things going on in her head even for him.

"Looking for a ball date, Blaise?"

"Looking for a date with balls actually," she grinned. Draco linked his fingers in hers as he pulled the cigarette out of them. He watched the tendrils of smoke spill out of his mouth. As close as this dragon would ever come to breathing fire.

"I'm not joking," he puffed out a ring, "Everyone else makes it complicated. That one wants commitment, that one wants a notch, that one's got a fetish." He gestured with his cigarette to each imagined woman.

"That one's a mudblood," Blaise grinned wickedly, leaning forward on her seat so that her calf pushed against his shoulder. Draco's eyebrows shot up. The question was heavy in his eyes, as much as he tried to make his face unreadable. Had he been that obvious. Blaise slipped down the seat until she was next to him and she guided his hand back towards her mouth. She took a deep draw from his cigarette and breathed into his face. Draco's name was called from the grounds before he could retort, and he made a low growl, hiding his relief. He pulled his robes back up fully around his shoulders.

"Coming Prof," he yelled and started down to the field, running down the steps past Granger.

* * * * *

The robes were too hot. The sleeves were rubbing his arms. The hem kept catching around his legs as he ducked out of the way. Draco cast another spell Potter's way. And the damn sunlight kept blinding him every time Potter moved. He was sure he was getting a face cramp as he kept squinting at his opponent.

"Glacio lumbar!" Potter yelled and managed to catch him. Draco spasmed and leapt forward from the very real, very intense feeling of icecubes sliding down his back. Fuck, he had to remember that one. He wondered if it could be toned down for less aggressive situations. Distracted by his turn of thoughts, Draco was hit again by a Potter spell. This time it felt like he was walking on maggots.

"Well that's just wrong," he muttered. He didn't wait for the spell to fade this time and lashed out.

"Veritas totallum!" Draco felt the jolt of power leave his wand. Harry was struck by it a moment later, making him stand rigidly.

"My lips feel all hot and rubbery, and they won't let me stop talking," he announced, looking very confused, "I can feel my mouth moving but I can't stop it. Blasted Ferretboy's spell did this and just wait until it passes and I cast an itching spell on his slimy slytherin boxers with the wrath of a thousand-" 

Draco couldn't stop himself from laughing, until he took a step backwards and felt like he was stepping into a bucket of writhing worms. "Eeech!"

Less amused, he was still impressed by the effect of the spell. It also seemed to have stopped Potter from casting any spells himself, as he was too busy just saying anything truthful that came into his head, as this particular version of a truth spell took hold. Others had stopped and were looking over. Snape was giving Malfoy dry applause, smirking as he clapped his hands slowly together. Practicing that had definitely been worth it. Though he never, ever wanted to hear Crabbe talk about his special feelings for Huggles the stuffed giraffe again.

"Hey Potty, what do you think of Ginny Weasley?" he called out across their dueling pitch.

In the stands, metres away, Ginny's face flared red. Next to her, Hermione was watching the situation very intently. Back on the field, Potter's thoughts were turned inescapably to the youngest of the Weasley clan and despite his pained expression, he was unable to stop the tirade from his stream of conscious.

"She's had a blatant crush on me from before the first day we met and she has all the subtley of a claustrophobic rhinocerous in an elevator. It's not that she's a redhead, or that her face is more freckled than fairy-bread – or that she's Ron's sister, but she's not my type – and by that I mean-" Potter was trying to close his hand over his mouth, or force his face into the ground but neither method was working. On the sidelines, Ginny had gotten up from her seat and was running down the pitch, back towards the Gryffindor's quarters. Snape was trying to rouse people back into their duels but Potter was far more interesting. Draco laughed drily as the facially-disfigured twerp looked at Ginny's retreating form in horror.

"Ron's gonna kill me for this and – hey – I never realized what a great arse she has-" Harry wrenched his eyes away from Ginny to stare darkly at Draco, who couldn't control his laughing any more.

"Better run Malfoy, because soon you won't be able to," Potter stated, and immediately he was charging towards Draco, still muttering truths. He tackled him around the waist before Malfoy could move and the two plowed to the ground. 

"Harry!" Granger called out as Snape called out "Potter!"

The two ran towards them as Potter tried to slug Draco. Draco pushed him away but Potter was strong and agile from years of Quidditch. Still, years of speedflight and fencing hadn't left Draco without his share of strength and he rolled over determinedly, getting an edge over Potter. Pushing his head back towards the grass, Draco was surprised to feel strong hands grip under his arms and yank him up off Potter. Snape made sure he had his balance before snapping at Potter about inappropriate behaviour, and taking the truth spell off with a slash of his wand. Granger was helping Potter to his feet, looking at him with such bared sympathy that an edge of jealousy grated along Draco. 

"So good at being rescued by women, Potter," drawled Draco. Potter's fists tighened, turning the knuckles pale but Hermione placed her own hands over them and guided him towards the bleachers. 

"Enjoy rolling in the mud," he called out as they walked away. Hermione straightened up then and stopped. She was obviously having a hard time urging Potter to keep going but after a pause he cast a scowl at Draco and left. Hermione on the other hand walked back towards him.

"I appreciate keeping him calm there, Granger," he smirked, "Wouldn't want to lose another fifty points for Gryffindor."

To which she smiled, balled her fist and threw her entire body weight into one perfect punch aimed at his nose. Draco's face exploded in jagged red pain, but not for long before he passed out. 

* ~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Potter-pops for all who reviewed!!! (Hey, I love everyone who reads this, but they're special) Have your choice of Hommus-Harry, Grapey-Granger, Sour-Snapes or good-enough-to-lick-as-he-is Draco!

Serpent de feu – I'm so sorry! Again! Keep making life hard for you ;) to find the story, what I recommend (apart from using search) would be to select rating PG-13, first character as Hermione, second as Draco, and that should narrow it down now…. hopefully.

Mouse – Yeah, I've been a bit confused by all the Snape-assumptions. He's apparently a popular professor for midnight trysts in the forest… ;) Glad to see I'm not the only one lmao at Draco :) 

Couch-potato01 – now there's a name I can identify with. What's confusing you most? Perhaps I can explain.

Jack N – That's right, it's all fiction! As long as you remember that, you don't have a problem! I, on the other hand, have to go feed Draco now or he'll get all whiny when I take him for his walk later. *pulls his leash up to herself and rubs behind his ears*

Glad you're still enjoying it! :)

JeanB – sorry to confuse first off, but I'm glad it got clearer. I'm having fun with the ass-kicking Hermione idea :) But fighting's not all she can do… *secretive grin*

Angel – I'm trying, but I can feel writer's block trying to edge it's way in :( Thanks for r&r!

T.C. Vincent – hehe, thankyou, hope this chapter's okay too!

*deep breath* well that's everyone! Same bat-time, same bat-place next chapter :)

* * * * * 


	5. Lesson

Insomnia (Ch 5)

Disclaimer: Bellybutton lint is our friend.

AN: My network's been down so I've had some internet withdrawal. On the other hand, you all seemed to like seeing Draco getting smacked around… Brilliant.

IMPORTANT Heads up – this story's being moved. When I upload the next chapter in a few days, I'll move the story to R section.

* ~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

"Whut do you mean, nuthink?!" Draco hollered, and then immediately wished he hadn't as a fresh stream of blood started down the back of his throat. 

"Now Mr Malfoy, what did I say about talking?" Madame Pomfrey leant his head back and securely pinched at the top. With her other hand she was adding herbs to a paste. Satisfied, she folded the towel over the paste, forming a pack.

"You're saying she's not getting expelled? Suspended? Not so much as confined to a dungeon with nothing but stale bread and low-fat yoghurt?" He was disgusted. Indignant, disgusted and in a hell of a lot of pain. The Slytherin messenger nodded meekly and backed away, knowing Draco was at least confined to the bed. Pomfrey slid the pack onto his face and had him hold it while she scurried off to fetch another potion for his nose, a particularly delicate bone to heal correctly. Mildred and Pansy arrived by his bedside, their faces covered in sympathy and not a little morbid curiosity.

"Draco! Are you alright?? We heard you got punched!" 

"It sounded _horrible_!"

"Petra said your legs went right over your head!"

Draco winced at the last statement. "Actually, the 'punch' just aggravated a Quidditch injury from yesterday." He waved his hand dismissively. They cooed at the mention of 'Quidditch' and 'injury' together. Somehow, that was more glamorous to plant your face into a wall when chasing after a tiny flying ball. Draco chewed on his lip thinking that over.

"Umm, Drakey," Pansy started and trailed off, "Uhh, Draco."

"What is it oh heart-of-mine-own-heart?" he muttered.

"They said that…" she took a deep breath. She was wringing her fingers in her robes, obviously not wanting to finish. Draco stared her down and coughed, waiting.

"They said that it was Granger who did it," Pansy finished very quietly.

Draco's jaw tightened and he wet his lips slowly. He looked up at Pansy, fixing storm-grey eyes on her, "And?"

"Nothing," she bleeted, "The bitch," she added as an afterthought. 

Mildred had been slowly getting closer to him through all that. She was squinting at him intently and Draco could follow her eyeline to the ice and herb pack, currently covering his injury.

"Oh for the love of…" Draco pulled away his icepack and showed off the violet welt across the middle of his face. Both girls gasped, bringing their hands to clasp their mouths in some tauntingly choreographed melodrama.

"Now, kindly sod off," he rumbled, sick of being a spectacle already and not looking forward to the weeks of taunting ahead. Mildred and Pansy gathered the last mental pictures they needed for which to base their lurid descriptions for the rest of the Slytherin common room. Finally, Draco was left in some peace. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the dull throb through his face but it only reminded him of how it had happened. His mind's eye replayed it all, analyzing the way she'd moved towards him with her gliding walk, her perfectly calm face, the blurred vision of flesh-pink speeding towards his face. The ugly crunch and the explosion of hot pain where his nose had been.

* * * * *

Hermione rubbed her thumb over the corner of McGonagall's desk. She waited until it felt hot and pushed her nail against it, trying to imprint the thick varnish spread over the ruddy wood. Moving her hand an inch down the edge she repeated the sequence. The whispers behind the office door stopped and the door swung heavily open. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape all entered, followed lastly by Ginny. She took a seat next to Hermione, while of the teachers only McGonagall seated herself.

Ginny turned to her immediately and scrunched up her forehead, asking with a gesture for Hermione to verify what the whole school had been talking about minutes after Malfoy's shiny blonde head had smacked into the turf. Hermione nodded slightly, and the redhead let out a squeal before enveloping Hermione in a tight hug. McGonagall cleared her throat very loudly and Ginny dropped her arms, returning to sit straight in her chair while her grin threatened to split her face in half.

"What do you have to say about this incident, Ms Granger?" McGonagall's voice offered no levity. Hermione's action, though popular with the students, was obviously not well regarded by Gryffindor's head.

"Malfoy was being a total prat, Ms McGonagall," stated Ginny adamantly.

McGonagall slid her eyes to Ginny coldly and then returned them to Hermione. "What do you have to say about this incident, Ms *Granger*?"

"It would be inhumane if it were any other student than Draco Malfoy," replied Hermione. She could swear Dumbledore was biting down on his tongue.

"And because it was the Head Girl doing the punching, that was judicial do you suppose?" was the grim response. 

Hermione let a smile slip onto her lips, but McGonagall only sighed. She seemed tired, stretched out beyond what sleep could help.

"It was decided that you would have the Head Girl position long before your," she paused, "special circumstances arose. We decided to keep you because we felt that you were a student of exemplary standards in this school. In issues both scholastic and of conduct. But I'm disappointed today, Hermione." She frowned then, softly enough that only the wrinkles of her face seemed to pull it into something notable. Hermione blinked away the sudden blur over her eyes.

"You know we cannot afford to suspend you, as no doubt Lucius will be calling for," Professor Dumbledore took over, "However Professor Snape has devised a fitting punishment he assures me." Snape nodded at his mention.

"We will consider removing your position of Head Girl, but that has yet to be given appropriate address," Dumbledore finished with a harumph noise. 

"Now that we've covered as much of the punishment as we shall right now, I think it's time we addressed how you're going Hermione."

Hermione pulled herself up higher in her chair, happier to be talking about this than the Malfoy incident. She could still picture his face screwed up in the leer that had finally snapped through her self-control. "The training is going well. I'm learning faster than Professor Errat thought I would, but I still have a long way to catch up," she looked thoughtful. She didn't want to know how Errat would handle this news. 

"That's not what I meant," he smiled, "How are you coping?" His camel-wide eyes flicked to Ginny for a moment before going back to Hermione. She sunk her face towards her lap, before she lifted it slowly back to the three professors. They waited for the response. She wanted to say she felt like a junkie on permanent withdrawal, or a tightrope walker with pins and needles… or just a tired, confused girl. But not to them.

"I'm fine," Hermione smiled dully. Maybe she was daring the teachers to challenge her, by the cruel twist in her eyes. Dumbledore's expression was considerate but sad as he nodded, accepting her response as all he was likely to receive. 

"And Virginia," McGonagall looked at the other student questioningly, "As Hermione's assistant, how do you feel she's coping?"

Ginny couldn't help flicking her eyes to Hermione, but Hermione fixed her gaze ahead of her. The kid had to make her own choices. 

__

What's it gonna be today, Gins? Hermione thought ruefully. _The insomnia, the bruises… or the fact that we both know what happened with Draco was just a pluck in the string of a wire that's twisting tighter and tighter. _

Ready to snap.

Ginny squeezed her palms between her knees, rocking forward on her chair, "She's fine."

Hermione was surprised, but she was too tired to show it. It was amazing how easy it was to lose all facial expressions when you were just too wasted to care. 

* * * * *

"Well this just brings a ray of sunshine to my heart," announced Professor Snape drily.

Hermione sat on one side of the room, Malfoy on the other.

"Both of you – here!" he tapped the desk in front of him and neither moved.

"_Now._"

Hermione pushed herself up and sauntered over into a seat, but Malfoy still didn't budge from his window seat. She sighed and dropped her face into her hands, taking the opportunity to rest while Snape dealt with him. He could be such a child, she murmured to herself. But the bandages over his head did a little to ease her irritation. 

"Mister Malfoy, please take a seat over here."

"So I can be in arms' reach of that savage?" Malfoy shook his head firmly, ruffling his ice-blonde hair. The chair under him lurched up, pushed by an unseen hand, and Malfoy toppled against one side. The metal legs gleaned unnaturally, and the chair shifted as it learnt to balance his weight on its new legs. The chair was coming to life underneath Malfoy

"Granger!" roared the Slytherin angrily, his knuckles whitened around the sides as he clung on, while the chair wobbled quickly over to where Snape was standing. The Potions Professor waved his wand at Malfoy and clucked.

"Good of you to join us, Draco," he snipped. Her head resting on the desk in front of her, Hermione smirked at him before burying her face in her arms again.

Snape walked back and forth across the dull floor, swiping his dress robes around him in a way that reminded Hermione more of Count Duckula, than Dracula. She watched him dazedly as the black of his robes and the red of the floor spiked in to eachother, the edges of the world becoming fuzzy. His footsteps were a perfect four-four thud of a lullaby that slipped over her mind. She felt it happening, felt her thoughts trailing away from whatever Snape was on about, felt the light in the room melting over her like honey. Not quite there, but not quite anywhere else.

"Miss Granger," Snape's voice brought her mind sluggishly back to the moment. She found herself handing him his wand, and he took it happily. Apparently, it was what he'd been asking for. It freaked her out when she did that. While she'd lost her touch with the world, her body kept the show going for the outside world.

"One hour," stated Snape.

He bound her wand with Malfoy's in a glistening bubble of magic that hovered over their table, and then he strode from the classroom, his robes sweeping out behind him. Must save a fortune on vacuum cleaners, she smirked inwardly. Beside her, Malfoy was muttering dark words under his breath while he took out his textbook. 

Oh yes, it swam into her head, her punishment was to tutor the platinum rodent. She placed her hand on his book, moving to pull it towards her and his own hand slammed onto the opposite page. Malfoy's eyes were hard glass as he stared her down. Hermione curled her fingers up and drummed them over the book. So that was the way he wanted it. 

"Does your face hurt?"

"Yes, thank you very much," he snorted, then winced.

"Good, cause it's been killing me for years," she smirked.

Draco shot her a withering look, "That was cheap. Even for you."

"You being the authority on cheap women, I'll bare that in mind." Hermione tried pulling the book towards her again and again he resisted, holding it doggedly on his side of the desk.

"Malfoy," Hermione gave him a cracked smile, "You've reminded me. There was something I wanted to show you."

"I'm flattered Granger, but I've already had that show and tell," he flipped his hair back from where it was trailing over his eyes. He was staring at the page with a fixed resolution on his face when Hermione slammed her palm onto the book, dead in the centre. 

"My hand," she stated.

"It certainly is," Draco replied, and his eyes flickered to the wand-bubble above them. But he wouldn't be able to get his wand for at least another fifty minutes. Not that that particularly affected Hermione.

She grated her fingers on the gritty parchment, drawing his attention back to it. Her nails had been hacked back to unfeminine shortness, but apart from that there was nothing for Malfoy to fix on.

"I don't see anything," he muttered. His voice was tenuous as he waited for her to clarify her point. She tried to stop it, but she felt the malicious way her smile lit up. She noted a tremble run through him in response.

"Exactly. This is the hand that made this," she traced her finger feather-light over the bandage on his face. Draco pulled his face away belatedly.

"What's your point, mudblood harpy?"

"While you've been impersonating our reindeer friend Rudolph, and while every facial expression on your pointed little face wracks you with pain, my hand – the same that caused your problem – is entirely unmarked," She flexed all the fingers in demonstration.

"Did you know that if you punch someone hard enough, just here," she tapped his bandage again, just over the bridge of his nose, "You can actually snap the bone off, and push it back into the cerebral hemispheres? And if you hit just around here," she ran a nail across his neck and Draco flinched away, "You can crush their windpipe, or their carotid arteries. And," she lowered her gaze conspiratorially, "If you want me to name every bone in your body and just how to break it, I can do that too." Hermione smiled like an air-hostess.

"So Malfoy, a question you might want to ask yourself is just how _much_ damage do you think I could do to you before I broke a nail?" She laughed innocently, imitating Pansy's flirtatious girly pitch. The laughter stopped and the look on her face sent another shudder through him, turning his face ivory.

"Now, give me the book."

He did.

* ~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Welcome back to the review-grovelling section :) 

Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!!! 

tainted black – brown eyes…? aww - I suspected as much. I actually have typed at the top of my page "Check on Hermione's eyes" but was too lazy… will go back and change it now.

Adel – Empire Records! Couldn't remember where I knew it from. Fantastic film :)

Ghetto Superstar – 'That is what you are, coming from afar, reaching for the stars…' That's gonna be stuck in my head for hours.

T.C. Vincent – Draco's a lot of fun to write, and he's even more fun to beat up *grins* 

Serpent du feu – Pervy? Bah, that's half the fun of fanfic. Unfortunately… I warn you that the next chapter, though R, is still quite tame and this whole fic probably won't go too kinky. Have you tried www.snitchfiction.net?

couch-potato01 – regarding ratings I'm kinda confused too - as I'm australian we use a different rating system and I would've put this in M but you don't have that. And… hehe, I tried using tv shows/movie as a broad comparison, with mixed results. I think rating writing is a difficult process generally, due to a lot of the graphic nature lieing in the exact phrasing. You can describe the exactly same scene in very different ways, each of which would deserve different ratings… Anyhow, that said, I'm moving this story to R for coming stuff and in mind of your concern. Anything else confusing you that I can answer? :)

Jack Nolan – This is an adult approach? Hehe, thanks man. Sorry I got you in trouble. :( I remember computer classes, I spent them creating about 50 of those x-men-the-movie website characters… oh, and doing all those personality quizzes on thespark.com… But I digress. Thanks! 

I'd give you all more lollipops, but they're bad for your teeth… Thankfully I've got some fruit cut into nice little Potter figurines.


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